Green, Unpleasant Land
by Nathanoraptor
Summary: This elegantly macabre collection of 18 horror stories is a real tour de force. This book represents my kicking back at the poor excuse for horror we have had to endure for so long and the indignity of Primeval's cancellation, as well as showcasing some odd and overlooked bits of British folklore in the process! Welcome to our Green, Unpleasant Land!
1. Chapter 1

**Hi! I'm Nathanoraptor. This is based on a story I wrote about two years ago, which I was too anxious/lazy to update and just seemed terrible. I don't own Primeval. Sadly, it belongs to somebody else. And I don't own the cryptids; the planet does. I decided to change the rating to T, because there is gonna be a lot of gore in the story.**

I grew up with monsters. Monster films were part of my childhood; my earliest memories are pretending I was asleep, late at night, so I could watch old monster movies on late-night TV. Some of my earlier experiences to monsters were due to this method; the werewolves and vampires of old horror movies, the titanic-but-misunderstood ape, King Kong and the works of the late, great Ray Harryhausen; The Valley of Gwangi, The Seventh Voyage of Sinbad, Clash of The Titans. From Japan, Godzilla lumbered onto our screens. A 400-foot tall, radioactive sea monster, doing battle with contenders to his throne as King of Monsters. Godzilla enthralled me. In more recent years, films such as Jaws, Anaconda and Jurassic Park have inspired a monster-loving generation; myself included.

Why did I like these monsters? The reason why is that they seemed very compelling and real; a monster that could exist in your back garden is scarier than one from the far side of the galaxy. To me, they oozed menace and weirdness. Surviving dinosaurs and a giant ape found on a remote tropical island, a giant radioactive sea monster, genetically-engineered dinosaurs getting out of control… they were just so awesome. This sparked my interest in monsters. I owe an awful lot to these people.

Sadly, for the longest time, dross dominated, with the same old vampires (usually pretty teenaged ones), werewolves and zombies dominating the screen; those plus aliens and demons were the main antagonists on TV. Too often, monster stories are stuck in a rut, using the same subjects and monsters (e.g. vampires, werewolves and zombies), which are often poorly portrayed and/or ill-researched; basically every pretty teenaged vampire is a blasphemy against how they are supposed to be portrayed. Primeval, for this reason, was an automatic win for me. In an era where sci-fi horror mainly consisted of aliens, demons, vampires/werewolves or zombies as villains, dinosaurs were a refreshing treat. 10-year-old me watched, goggle-eyed, every Saturday night at the adventures of Cutter and team, saving the world from the monsters of the past and future. I was a little adrenaline junkie, yes. It was a badass crew detecting space/time anomalies and fighting dinosaurs; what part of that is not awesome? I watched Primeval, almost religiously, every Saturday night for the next three years (ahh, those were the halcyon days); I am still a fan of it (and have even met Andrew Lee-Potts and Hannah Spearitt, the former twice! They were both great. Be jealous, I don't care.) However, it did go down in quality with Series 4 and 5; New World was an improvement but didn't last long.

My favourite part of Primeval was the anomalies opening in past times and the creatures that came through them becoming our mythical beasts; it gave the anomalies a history and a depth that had not been shown before. It turned them into terrifying natural phenomena, temporal natural disasters with the ability to cause great destruction. Now, I eagerly absorbed this development. The reason why is because I understood that there were a wealth of mythical creatures to be brought to terrifying life in conjunction with this development, so it was something that was very enthralling to me; a pity it was only used sparingly in the ensuing series.

The point of this is to rectify this; to tie the Primiverse with actual folklore of our green, unpleasant land (TITLE DROP). This owes influence to sci-fi royalty; one of the great eras of Doctor Who was that of the Third, Jon Pertwee. In this era, the Doctor was confined to Earth; principally Britain. So, to emulate this, I have set these stories in Britain, either in the present day or within living memory. The ARC team will feature in some, but not in others; although, they will be the main characters in the majority, those set in the past will (for obvious reasons) not feature them. Herein you will find giant boars and goblins, dragons and hellhounds, basilisks and werewolves; a vast menagerie of nightmares, all pulled from both folklore and the fossil record.


	2. The Patter Of Tiny Feet Preview

**Here's a preview of my first story; The Patter of Tiny Feet!**

Holly Jackson was a simple woman. Her life consisted of simple pleasures; the most of which was going home to sleep. Whilst other people her age were out drinking with friends, getting pissed in Liverpool's many bars, she was working the night shift in Mayfield Court Residential Care Home (or MCRCH, as the orderlies called it); she'd already done about eight hours so far, with another three to go. Then she could go home and get some sleep.

The one good thing about the night shift is that it was, surprisingly, quiet; MRCH, where Holly was an orderly, provided accommodation with personal care for the physically and mentally disabled. The residents of the care home came from many sources. Most had been referred to the care home by professionals who deemed it the best for their futures, whilst others had been left by family who could no longer care for them. Others had simply been abandoned, by family members who had no wish to care for their handicapped relatives. Sometimes people repulsed Holly; there used to be honour in caring for your elders. It all went back to tribal times; the men gave their lives for the tribe and, when they could no longer hunt or fish or fight, they spent the rest of their lives cared for by the loved ones they had spent their lives feeding and protecting. It wasn't like that now; her generation, with flat-screens and fast cars left a lot to be desired when it came to humanity. The resident she was visiting now, Bridget Riley, was the best example of this; she had been left by her three adult children, none of whom particularly wanted to be burdened with the old woman. She suffered from short-term memory loss and needed constant supervision in order to keep her safe; Holly needed to check if she had woken up in the night and stumbled over. With that thought, she opened the door to Bridget's room.

As Holly turned to enter Bridget's room, she gasped in horror. Bridget was lying, in her nightgown, barely conscious on her bed; if it weren't for her chest slowly rising and falling, Holly would have thought she was dead. Holly noticed a long, deep cut on Bridget's arm, one of several along her arms and legs. Holly's eyes widened with horror. Had she woken up and, confused, fallen over and hurt herself? There was blood seeping from the cuts; they had to be recently made. Something that happened in the last few minutes, if that. Holly rushed in, concerned, when, suddenly, she noticed three small brown creatures crouched like gargoyles around Bridget's bed. She shone her torch at the nearest creature; it looked like a cross between a shrew and a rat, with a long snout and a long, bare tail. Suddenly, the nearest one latched onto Bridget's arm and eagerly lapped at her wound like a cat lapping milk; its two comrades joined it, drinking the blood that flowed out of her wounds. Holly screamed, as the nearest of the creatures turned round and hissed at her with gleaming red eyes, revealing fangs almost too big for its mouth. Holly Jackson ran down the hall, like her life depended on it; to both sound the alarm and call the police. Would they believe her?

 **What do you think? Guess what animals the little shrew-things are and you win a prize!**


End file.
